[i]A Selfless Stag - 1.2[/i] She sipped longingly into her own brew, puckering shortly thereafter. It was clear she couldn't make tea of the same caliber as myself, but I could only imagine her standards were of the highest degree. She expects so much, when she can only offer so little. Out of curiosity, I tapped the surface with my gloveless hand and tested the drink she had created for herself. Thankfully, she was looking out to the yard when I almost spilt the caustic brew. I took the porcelain cup and plate and set it aside on the granite island adjacent to the table, as I prepared her a new one. She thinks her kids have the high life? It must be impossible to balance sunbathing and online shopping as a stay-at-home wife. "It must be impossibly depressing to know this is what the next generation has come to. It's as if the revolutions went unnoticed." "Quite. Utopia to dystopia, as is the nature of things. I suppose it's all just some convoluted cycle." It was, to be fair. I seldom agreed with my lords, but they were absolutely right. Tragedy strikes and we go with it. We don't feel the need to be bothered with these petty setbacks and mishaps. At least, I don't feel the need to. "Why do you suppose that is, Quentin?" "Pardon?" I lost myself in deep thought and tea leaves for a moment. I turned to face her after putting some hot water on the kettle. "Why do you think history is so keen on repeating itself? All our achievements, all our blunders; why does it never chart new territory?" What a question to ask. I'm no philosopher. I don't have time to think about these grand thoughts. "Well... I suppose it's because we're human. We aren't computing machines who can execute the right decisions, we have morals and standards. We have our consciences and out judgement, surely, but it balances out with our brashness and emotion. We learn and discover new technologies and sciences every minute of every day, but old habits are tough to break. Our tendencies and ticks return because, perhaps, it's in our nature. It's in our genes and our habits. History repeats because we don't learn from our mistakes." It was a sound answer, but I felt rather unqualified being so bold as to say that humans at not machines. My purpose is to execute tasks with the utmost efficiency and care, only to be paid and sustained. "That's a rather bold statement coming from someone with a life such as yours." It seems Mrs. Barcello agrees. "You may be an astounding gentleman with adept skills in a myriad of fields, but as a butler, how do you defend yourself as a man when you work like a machine? Yes, you have your quirks, but your personality is overshadowed by your obedience and resolve to work." "Is that such a bad thing?" "Not at all. You still shine through your work ethic, but you know when it's time to speak and when it's time to do. It's a rare trait to have. But to the matter of repetition: why you blame humans for the state of our present?" The water was boiling now, the kettle whistled for me to cease the fire which licked at its metal underbelly. I spoke as I poured the scalding liquid into a new cup of China, the strainer of tea bobbing out and in of the water. It began to stain it darkly. "Mrs. Barcello, please forgive me, but I don't want to bore you with my interpretations of social philosophy. I will say that our advancements as a species are milestones that even the first space farers and colonizers couldn't have dreamt. But greed and lust still linger on, always prowling for the weakest of men to overtake. We have our moments, but in the end, there are too many people who simply cannot find pleasure in involving themselves in matters bigger than ourselves." The white porcelain cup was a stark contrast to the dark tea inside it. I handed it to my lord without looking at her. I couldn't stop staring into the blend of leaves and spice. "Some of us want to think of the worlds around us. Life is a beautiful place, but it's hollow. Anything can fill it to the brim, but only one item can let one see the flawless beauty unfettered. But that's only if you care. The rest of us just hand it off to someone else." I couldn't read what expression she was giving me, but I could tell it was one of shock. I must admit, even I didn't think I was that meticulous and thoughtful. I wasn't sure I wanted to be. But Mrs. Barcello smiled faintly at me before taking a long sip. The curtain cup parted to the table to reveal a dour frown. It took me by surprise. "How is the tea?" I asked, worriedly. I couldn't have made it incorrectly, could I have? We're the leaves stale? The water too hot? Not hot enough? "It's perfect." She couldn't fake her pouting for long. Her grinning teeth betrayed her before she spoke, but it was only after did my brain put the pieces together. She almost gave me a heart attack with that stunt. To think I would taint my source of revenue with such a disturbing sip. But it was a joke. Nothing more. She got a good laugh out of it. I only smiled with relief.